


Tangerine, tangerine

by Latter_alice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M, Memory Loss, Post Series, everything after jack peaces out isn't canon here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latter_alice/pseuds/Latter_alice
Summary: “So it’s – It’s really nothin’, huh?” Dean swallows and tries to blink away the wetness in his eyes. His gaze don’t weaver from the road. “No, uh, key words ring a bell? Chuck? Angel tablet?” He pauses, flicks his eyes over to Castiel and back. “... Leviathans?"When Dean pulls Cas out of the Empty, not everything comes back.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	Tangerine, tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> _living reflection from a dream_   
>  _I was her love, she was my queen, and now a thousand years between_

When Castiel’s existence starts, two things are made immediately clear:

Dean Winchester is exquisite, and he is loved.

Even if he has no idea who he is. But it’s all there, whatever that  _ all  _ encompasses.

It’s in the sun – in the way its midday rays thread Dean’s hair in honey-wheat. It’s his lopsided grin, how it crinkles the corners of his eyes and flips Castiel’s stomach on its head. It’s in the way his hands, smooth and confident, tug Castiel as close as he can be, and Dean kisses him. And his lips, plush and pink, are a perfect press against Castiel’s own.

Yes. Dean Winchester is loved.

Castiel lets himself be pulled in, slinks up and into the kiss as quickly as his pulse skyrockets, and he gets to tastes the way Dean smiles.

It’s the first memory he has, and it’s already an excellent one.

Dean barely parts them when he pulls back, and the sweet press of his forehead against Castiel’s own is as dazzling as the heat of Dean’s breath across his lips.

“Cas.” The word tickles something in the back of Castiel’s mind, a tingle of recognition. Theres a right-ness in it that his name lacks. “You’re never going back there again, all right?” Dean’s hand, warm and callused in the exact way it should be, grazes the side of Castiel’s cheek. “I’m sorry if this ain’t ideal, but god. I missed you man.”

Dean presses their lips together again, and Castiel falls into it the soft sunlight sensation of it before flinching back. He doesn’t get far, the weight of Dean’s hand is a warm anchor against the small of his back, nestled behind his coat. “I – I apologize –”

Dean cuts him off with another quick peck. “You don’t gotta be. I should be thanking you. We won, but not without what you did. You saved me.” He shakes his head. “Again. And – and of course I –”

“No.”

It should be impossible, to untethered himself, but Dean’s hands fall and Castiel takes a slight step back and averts his eyes.

“I’m…. reasonably assured I’m in love with you. I know your name.” He takes a peak up. “Or I guess I know I am. But I have no idea who you are.”

Castiel may as well have shot him.

By the time they’re in the front seat of Dean’s smooth, black car, Castiel has shed his trench coat and suit jacket. It was much to Dean’s dismay initially, but he insisted that it was no bother, and folded the cloth up with a delicacy that should be surprising from someone as gruff looking as Dean, and placed them down easy in the trunk.

Dean’s knuckles are bone-white on the steering wheel. Every join of his is locked in place, besides the relentless tapping of his thumb.

Castiel nips the edge of his lip. His hands have been pressed firmly in his lap for hours now, and he’s kneaded them on and off. Usually, around the time Dean would muster up enough wherewithal to speak

“So it’s – It’s really nothin’, huh?” Dean swallows and tries to blink away the wetness in his eyes. His gaze doesn’t weaver from the road. “No, uh, key words ring a bell? Chuck? Angel tablet?” He pauses, flicks his eyes over to Castiel and back. “... Leviathans?”

Castiel shakes his head and looks away. It’s easier to study the orange hue of sunset-kissed clouds than the thinly veiled grief on Dean’s face.

“I’m sorry Dean.”

The cassette tape Dean slide into the player glides into the next song. They’ve all been from the same artist since then, each one has chipped at something inside of Castiel.

“It’s not your fault Cas. We’ll figure it out.”

The strum of the guitar is complex yet gentle, and the music rolls through the car like a mid-spring breeze. It’s nostalgic in a way that doesn’t make sense, an old ache and twinge of fondness that have no place in the blank slate of his past.

_ Hey lady, you’ve got the love I need _

_ Maybe more than enough _

_ Oh dalrin, darlin, darlin _

“I believe I liked this song,” Castiel says.

He doesn’t miss the way Dean’s breath stops. His answer is quick and sharp. Painfully hopeful.

“Yeah?”

_ Oh, you got so much _

_ So much _

_ So much _

“Yes.” He balls his hands in his lap. Kneads them together. “I… know the words. It’s a nice song now too.”

Dean laughs, genuine and fond. “God Cas. That’s – ” he glances over, face pulled into the half-formed grin. “That’s really something man. You forgot all the feathery doucebag stuff, but not my name and some Zeppelin tracks.”

Heat creeps up the back of Castiel’s neck. Obviously, Dean’s interested, otherwise his hello wouldn’t have been a kiss, but…. he must be missing something.

“I, uh, apologize.”

The good-natured expression falls. “Hey. It isn’t your fault. It’s just this tape used to be yours. Still is.” He looks away, and a small frown nestles into place. “Y'know, I wasn’t sure if you’d listen to it. Guess you did after all.”

Castiel stares at his hands. His fingers trace the cuff of his shirt’s sleeve. “Did you make it?”

“Yeah. Took me over a week.” His chuckle tappers off with a sigh. “Seems so stupid now.”

“I’m sure I treasured it.” It’s a simple truth, one that puts a small knot in his throat.

Dean huffs a breath. “Never did get your priorities.”

Castiel hums an acknowledgment, and stares as a tear that teeters on the edge of Dean’s eyelash falls free. Castiel catches it with a light brush as it makes a slow stain down Dean’s cheek.

If it phases him, Dean tries not to show it. “Maybe Sam knows something that’ll help.”

Castiel smears the tear across his fingertips with the pad of his thumb, and tries to speak around the lump quickly building in his throat. “Who’s Sam?”

Dean’s shoulders droop.

_ You really oughta know _

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here something fun -- a memory loss fic! I have a few things I have to write before this, so unless people like really like this or something it'll be on the back burner until around Christmas. All in all this will be long, but it could be therapeutic so I want to do it.
> 
> The song is Over The Hill and Far Away if anyone didn't know. Thanks for reading :)


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